BB, why are you here?
by KuraiFriendku
Summary: "Because it seemed like you needed a friend." Marionette/Balloon Boy. Highschool AU.


**A/N: Hey guys. I've had this idea for a little while and decided to put it up.**

**Warning: there will be mentions of rape and suicide, plus a lot of cursing. And of course, Marionette/Balloon Boy, because why not.**

**To those of you following 'Wings of Glass,' I can assure you I have not given up. There's just so much going on right now… I can't deal with all this. I needed to vent a lot of pented-up emotions, which I felt more comfortable doing through Marionette's P.O.V., rather than someone from Ninjago's, and worse yet, third person (third person isn't the greatest for displaying emotions).**

**So, uh...temporary hiatus until school lets out, maybe?**

* * *

I hate everyone.

They go around acting like everything's just fine and tomorrow'll be full of butterflies and rainbows, but it won't be. They think all the cares in the world are just going to disappear at the end of the day, but they won't. Nothing ever changes.

"Tomorrow'll be brighter!" But guess what? 'Tomorrow' never comes. Everyday shit just gets shittier and I just dig myself deeper into this hellhole...nothing new. I even tried cutting myself on more than a few occasions, but it never helps. There's just no point. Never was, never is, never will be, though everyone seems to think different.

And I hate everyone.

* * *

"Alright, class, tomorrow we're starting a big assignment on the Roman Empire, so make sure you pick out a partner you'll be willing to work with for three weeks." Ms. Willson says over the sound of the bell. I shove my black-and-white sketchbook into the black-and-white backpack lying on the floor and carefully rearrange anything I can find in there. It's not like it matters if I'm last to leave as long as I can avoid getting caught by the Fazbear crew. Assuming they're in a good mood, that is. There's not much hope considering the grade Chica got in English this morning, but maybe, if I'm lucky...

"Hey, Mary." The tall brunette calls to me, leaning his muscular frame on the door. The blonde girl beside him cackles with that cheery-ass smile she always bears. Her eyes glance toward Freddy and she narrows them. "_He'll have to leave eventually," _she's probably thinking, and I bet she's just waiting for her leader's orders. This isn't common for them, but I've seen it before. They'll follow me to my locker and bark a couple insults, maybe through a couple punches while they're at it, then leave. Their insults have been cutting deeper later, thanks to the new addition, stupid Bonnie. And they make fun of _me_ for having a girly name.

"Hey, Mare!" the purple-haired one greets in a cheerful tone as if it were another usual day. Y'know, before he started hating my guts.

"Hey, Bon." I return the welcome. Sometimes if I pretend we're still friends, the pain won't hurt as bad.

He adjusts his bright red bowtie and lands a nice slap on my ass as we exit. I yelp slightly at the contact- he hadn't done that since we were together.

Just as I expected, they follow me to my locker, which was conveniently located on the other side of the building and down a long, dark hallway where practically no one ever went. This locker spot is the perfect place for bullies. If the lack of bystanders wasn't enough to convince you, how about the lack of hygiene? Pretty sure that crusty stain on the wall (that's been there since I was a freshman) is dried blood- probably why they gave me this spot in the first place.

Typical.

"Hey Mare!" Bonnie calls in his Southern accent. "Ya wanna stop bah mah house latah an' have a lil' fun?"

"I have to get home, Bon."

"Awww!" Chica butted in. "Aren't you just the _tiniest _bit hard?"

I stop, then blink. That was new. Don't tell me their group is just a bunch of girls in sync. Oh god, that'd be hysterical if they weren't all horney for me.

"Well?" Bonnie eggs on, but I refuse to answer. I have an awful feeling of where this is going.

"Oh, come on! I've always wanted to try a _fourway_."

Freddie, for once in his life, opens his mouth to speak. Bitter, empty words spill out and pour around me like lava. Thanks to Bonnie, he knows all my secrets. He knows where to hit the hardest, and with added charisma, his words are always the worst.

"Little Mary's always silent when he's turned on." A smile etched on that perfect face as a crude look is exchanged between the three.

"Can weh?"

"Yeah, can we?"

This can't be happening… Nowhere to run…

"Let's get 'em."

* * *

I slam the door shut. It's been half-an-hour since the bell rang, and everything hurts. Everything…

I run fingers up and down the sides of my arms, tracings all the jagged cuts they made from the broken mirror, all the bruises from being slammed against the wall… There's a nasty gash on my left leg from hitting the side of a stall, stinging with each small movement. All three of those shit-heads already left, and I slowly rise, flinching at the waves of needles soaring from my feet to my head, taking a quick pitstop at my rear and continuing onward. Limping, my shaky arms grab hold of the black-and-white backpack flung on the floor, dragging it out into the empty hallway. Droplets of water break through my protective barrier, streaking down my pale-white cheeks and leaving a trail of wet behind. Crying- just another thing I'm known for.

"_This is it," _I think, flinging open my locker. Everything needs to go. Every brick-heavy textbook, all of my folders, every piece of paper strewn throughout the giant mess...all the sketches, post-its, Hollywood Undead CDs...I don't think it all fits. But it _has_ to! I wipe at my nose with long black sleeves and huff. Everything hurts, I feel so weak...but it has to fit. There's a few ripped seams now, but it doesn't matter, not now. What's important is that it fits.

Since, after all, it'd save my mother the trouble of having to clean out my locker.

I slump against the wall and slide down, like my sanity, scraping against the jagged edges and leaving more cuts in my shirt fabric. The cloths were already tattered from the constant shoving into sharp objects. My clothes were beyond repair.

Wrapping my arms around my head and squashing myself against the wall, I sigh. How am I going to do this? Obviously not at home- that wouldn't end well- and my house is too close to really go anywhere anyway...it'd have to be done at school, but with what? The biology textbook has a chart of major arteries, so if I manage to get a knife from the kitchen-

"Hello?"

Oh, someone's here. His voice sounds familiar, but I don't bother looking up from between my knees. They probably aren't talking to me anyway.

"He_llo-o!_"

Or maybe they are?

"Are you okay?"

Something touches my shoulder and I jerk away, face shooting up at the contact. In front of me stands a slightly chubby boy about 5'01", orangish hair and bright blue eyes glistening in the angelic light coming from the only window in this entire hall. It's like the angels themselves blessed him...if they even cared.

"Eh?" I tilt my head to the side. Where do I know this guy from?

"Oh! I know you! You're in my art class!"

Oh, that's right. The only class I like and the only class where the kids aren't all douchebags.

"Yeah." My voice shakes. I didn't realize how thirsty I am. "That's right."

"Hey, you were crying! What's wrong?" he asks, sitting down in front of me. Probably just wants to backstab me.

"Nothing."

"Hey, it's okay, I won't tell anyone!"

"I-I'm fine. Go away." I pull at a piece of curly black hair, wrapping it and unwrapping it around my finger. He's still sitting there, staring at me...thinking… Oh god! He's gonna do something to me, like one of those crazy psychopaths you see on TV-

"I don't remember your name."

Huh? That's it? "No one does."

"So what is it?"

I close my eyes, take a big breath in, and let it slowly seep out before answering. "Mary...I am Marie Antoinette."

His eyes widen the slightest bit. "Like the queen that got her head cut off?"

"Yes…" Here come the insults…

"That's so cool! I wish I had a name like that! Mine's just B.B."

"Huh? You're not gonna ask why I was named after a girl?"

He shrugs. "You can tell me if you want. It's not like you named yourself. And parents are weird."

"Oh. Um...what does B.B. stand for?"

"Balloon Boy. My parents just call me by my middle name, Baltroy."

I try so hard not to laugh, so hard, but I'm _sure _there's at least a smile on my face.

"You can laugh." His smile's even brighter. "I know it's stupid. That's why I go by B.B."

A few chuckles escape before the suspicion sets back in. "B.B, why are you here?"

"I left my textbook here but only remembered it after I was home. I had to walk back-"

"Then you should go home. I'm not worth your time."

"Hold on, you didn't let me finish! I came back 'cause I left my textbook in my locker and when I saw you crying on the floor, it looked like you needed a friend."

I'm sure my cheeks are heating up and my skin's so pale I'm sure B.B. notices it, too. He takes the opportunity to grab hold of my hands, which at first I flinch away from, expecting some sharp object to pop out. When none do, I look into his vibrant blue eyes that shine such a beautiful color. He interprets my stare as a sign to continue, and advances into a full-out hug, avoiding the obvious knicks in me.

"B-B.B.…?" More tears threaten to spill, so I let them.

"It's okay; don't cry!"

"Why do you...c-care?"

"You seem like that kid that sits in the back all the time and never does anything. I never see you interact with anyone, but I wouldn't either if it meant facing the rumors people spread around."

Rumors?! Oh god, what're they saying about me?!

"Like what?"

"Uh...it doesn't matter. But I'll be your friend, if you want."

"You...you'll...why…?"

"Because when you live in a box,

That no one bothers to wind up,

Scary things get let out,

And you might do something you'll regret.

But if someone takes the time to check,

And let you know that you actually matter,

Then you might start to believe it yourself."

"Why would I believe a lie?"

The very second the words drip from my lips, B.B. looks straight into my eyes, leans forward and presses his lips against mine. It's not like Bonnie's way- aggressive, rough, dominant- but much gentler, passive, willing to give me a choice. It was quick, leaving a small amount of black lipstick on him (so much for smudge-free) and a warm feeling in me. I held a genuine grin, which I think he picked up on quite well.

And it was at that moment that I truly felt happy.


End file.
